“There’s no need.” Miles gently put his hand around Jonathan’s and closed it around the money. “Keep your money, sir. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’re not? But… but I’ve lost everything, Miles. I can’t pay you. I can’t give you a place to stay.” He looked down at his bunny slippers and gave a short burst of self-deprecating laughter. “I don’t even have a proper pair of shoes.”
“But you do have nice bunny slippers.” Miles smiled faintly, and his green eyes twinkled. With a small sigh, he sat down next to Jonathan again. The vampire frowned. How long had it been since he’d noticed Miles getting older? It seemed like only yesterday, he’d been a young man. Now, Miles had grey hair and wrinkles. It was a stark reminder that humans didn’t live very long. If something happened to Miles, then he’d be completely alone. “Sir, if I may be so bold…”
“Go ahead,” Jonathan replied with a small smile. “You’ve chosen to stay. If there’s something you want to say, you’ve certainly earned the right.”
“You are not your father or your grandfather, and that, I think, is a good thing.” Miles peered up at the moon. “When I arrived at your doorstep, I was nobody. I had nothing to my name other than the tattered clothes on my back. I didn’t have a single reference or even a good pair of boots, yet all the same, you took me in. You fed me and clothed me, and you saw to it that I was properly trained and educated. I have served you loyally ever since. You might not be a warrior or a businessman, but you are a good, honest man who keeps his word and does his best to treat people well. The world could use more people like you. I have faith that you will regain your fortune and your castle.”
Jonathan somehow managed to keep his voice steady. “Thank you, Miles. That… means a lot to me. But I don’t suppose you have any ideas about how I might, you know, go about regaining my fortune and my castle, do you?”
“I haven’t the faintest clue whatsoever, sir.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.” Jonathan fought the urge to scream. Screaming might feel good, but it was not going to help them. He needed to stay calm and think. There had to be a way to fix this. “We could go to Bloodmark.” It was the closest major city. “I have a friend there. He might be able to help us. At the very least, he should take us in while I try to find a job at one of the universities or academies there.” He grimaced. “I might not have much to my name right now, but my name does mean something in the academic world. A teaching position won’t pay well enough to get back the castle, but it should keep us off the streets and give us some breathing room to come up with a better plan.”
“A fine way to start, sir.” Miles patted him on the back. It was a more familiar gesture than the butler would normally have made, but Jonathan wasn’t about to complain. With how the night had gone so far, he could use a good pat on the back. “And it’s not like we can stay here.”
Jonathan looked around at the empty foundations of his castle. His lips twitched. He still wasn’t sure whether he should laugh or cry. The castle hadn’t been much, but it had been his. Maybe he was looking at it through rose-tinted glasses since he’d lived in it his whole life, but he’d always thought it was cosy. “We’ll have to bring the crate along.” He patted the crate. It was reassuringly sturdy. “I don’t have a coffin, and I’d rather not bury myself underground during the day while we travel.”
“A wise course of action.” Miles got to his feet. “Give me a few moments, sir. I’ll see if I can find a wagon for us to use. We should also search the foundations more thoroughly. If the other servants left anything behind, we might as well make use of it. If we’re fortunate, we may even find you some better clothing and a stout pair of boots.”
Jonathan allowed himself a quiet chuckle. “Yes, that might be for the best. I’m not sure I’ll have much luck getting a job in a dressing gown and bunny slippers.”
* * *
Jonathan tried not to wince as the crowd jostled him around. He got a lot of dirty looks as he tried to keep his crate from bumping into anyone. Although he wasn’t especially strong for a vampire, he was still a vampire noble with two centuries under his belt. Carrying a large wooden crate was not going to trouble him. Unfortunately, its size made it cumbersome to manoeuvre. He would have preferred it if they had a wagon, but Miles hadn’t been able to find one. Instead, they’d made the journey to Bloodmark on foot, travelling at night and resting during the day.
It hadn’t been an easy journey. There were bandits on the prowl, and they’d been lucky to make it without being attacked. Travel at night wasn’t easy for humans either since they couldn’t see in the dark as well as vampires. However, they hadn’t had a choice. Jonathan was not about to ask Miles to carry his crate with him in it, and it wasn’t like Jonathan could walk around during the day. In the end, Jonathan was simply glad they’d made it to Bloodmark in one piece and that Miles hadn’t abandoned him. On the upside, they’d managed to find two old but serviceable boots that were only a few sizes too big along with some better clothes amidst the foundations of the castle. The clothes were far from fashionable, and the boots didn’t quite match, but they were better than a dressing gown and bunny slippers.
As another person bumped into him, Jonathan grimaced. Bloodmark was not a pleasant city. His castle had been old and in need of repair, but he’d kept it reasonably tidy. The same could not be said of Bloodmark. It was horribly overcrowded, and it hadn’t been planned so much as slapped together as necessity demanded. As a result, its streets were long, winding, narrow, and convoluted. Many were missing numerous cobblestones, and the lack of proper drainage turned them into nightmares during heavy rain. There were better parts of the city – the truly wealthy had made certain to ensure their own comfort – but Jonathan wasn’t foolish enough to think he’d be welcome there.
Even the city’s architecture, which had once been impressive, had fallen upon hard times as the need to expand and accommodate more people grew ever stronger. Many of the city’s graceful, darkly elegant spires, arches, and colonnades had been torn down to make way for squat, blockish buildings. Where once ornate gargoyles and gothic trim had dominated, cheap wood and shoddy stone were now the norm. To make matters worse, the part of the city he and Miles were in was also notorious for its pickpockets, thugs, and other miscreants.
“We need to find a place to stay,” Jonathan shouted, so he could be heard over the clamour as people vied for position on the busy sidewalk. Anyone unfortunate enough to be forced off it was likely to be run over by a carriage or a wagon. “And I’ll need to find better clothes before I can apply for work.” He bit his lip. “Although we might not have the funds for that.”
Miles nodded grimly and slapped away the hand of a pickpocket. The young boy vanished into the throng with a smirk. “Indeed, sir. Given our funds, I doubt we’ll be able to purchase clothing suitable for a noble.”
Jonathan was forced to agree. Appearances were very important in vampire society, arguably too important. A noble who dressed like a vagabond would be treated like one. He didn’t need to use [Glean] to know how the vampires they passed looked at him. It wasn’t contempt – that would have implied they actually cared about him – on the contrary, it was closer to disdain. It was a sad fact that even if he’d been dirt poor, he’d be treated with more respect if he dressed and acted more like a stereotypical noble. Alas, he had neither the clothes nor the acting ability to play the part.
They could not afford to be careless with their meagre funds. Miles was currently the only one with a reasonable sum of money to his name, and although the butler had offered to cover their shared costs until their situation improved, Jonathan did not want to impose on him. Part of it was pride. He might not have been like most nobles, but he was still a noble. However, more of it was simple pragmatism. He had very little money. If Miles ran out, they would be destitute, and the world was not kind to the destitute.
“One of my friends lives nearby,” Jonathan said. “It’s been a while since we’ve sp
oken in person, but we’ve kept up regular correspondence.” He smiled faintly. “He has an interest in artefacts and relics, and he’s asked me to authenticate a great many things over the years. He should be able to help us or at least point us in the right direction since he’s far more familiar with the city than either of us.” Jonathan almost tripped over as a burly vampire shoved him aside. “If nothing else, we should have a roof over our heads for a while.”
Relying solely on his memory, which was excellent – one of the side benefits of having [Memory] as one of his main words – Jonathan led them deeper into the maze-like streets of the city. His brows furrowed as he catalogued all of the changes that had occurred, few of which were good. The last time he’d been here, years ago, this part of the city had been, if not well to do, mostly aspirational. The buildings had been worn but well built, and they had been home to a burgeoning middle class. Now, however, it bore a disturbing resemblance to a red light district. No, he thought. If the women walking the streets and the sounds he heard coming from the windows and alleyways nearby were anything to go by, this actually was a red light district. He could use [Reveal] to be sure, but he was fairly certain he did not want to know more about the very loud couple in the alleyway to his left. As a vampire, his sense of smell was keen enough to tell him plenty, and unlike Miles, his eyes weren’t hindered by the darkness that shrouded the alleyway.
“Are you sure we’re in the right place, sir?” Miles asked as he gallantly stepped forward to intercept a pair of women and send them on their way. They were comely enough, but Jonathan wasn’t stupid. They were after money, and he didn’t have any. Nor was this any time to be indulging in pleasures of the flesh. He had to get his castle back, and finding his friend was important.
“Unfortunately, I think we are in the right place.” Jonathan grimaced as a drunken man was tossed out of a house of ill repute. A scantily clad woman charged after him, landing several hard kicks to his gut before a pair of burly werewolves stepped forward. Their human forms gave way to their larger and bulkier werewolf forms. The man, who had been about to strike back at the woman, wisely scuttled off. Fighting a transformed werewolf – never mind two – without a weapon was basically suicide.
As they continued on, Jonathan struggled to make sense of it all. The buildings here seemed newer than they ought to be, but they were somehow shabbier than the even older buildings they’d passed earlier on. They were built in an approximation of the gothic style that had originally given the city its reputation, but the difference in quality was cavernous. It was like looking at a painting done by a young child next to the painting of a master. Cheap stone had begun to crumble, and the decorations and embellishments were woefully rough. The gargoyles were a grim example. They were hideously deformed, but he had a feeling it wasn’t on purpose so much as it was due to the craftsmen lacking anything resembling skill.
They finally stopped in front of another house of ill repute, and Miles stood guard, glaring ferociously at several poorly dressed gentlemen who seemed to be taking their measure. Cutthroats wouldn’t be tolerated in the red light district – dead customers were bad for business – but thieves were a different story. Miles’s expression was jarring. Jonathan had only ever seen his butler use a frown or some disdain to express his displeasure. Now, though, he was practically radiating menace. Yet despite the sternness of Miles’s expression, Jonathan couldn’t help but worry. Miles was a sprightly human for his age, but if these men tried to rob them, it was likely Jonathan would have to do most of the fighting. He wasn’t good at fighting, but he was a vampire noble. He should be able to handle a few humans without much trouble. More concerning was the possibility that these ruffians worked for a vampire. His hopes of winning a fight all rested on his greater strength, speed, and durability. Against another vampire, he wouldn’t necessarily have those advantages, and his actual skill in combat left a lot to be desired.
The sounds coming from the open windows above them made Jonathan cringe. He was sorely tempted to use some generic magic to cast a sound-dampening spell. It was something he’d learned, so he could read in peace, but it would be very handy right about now. The only thing worse than hearing the grunts and groans of men who were very obviously enjoying themselves was hearing the completely fake cries of women pretending to enjoy themselves just as much. And the less he heard about someone screaming how much they wanted to be spanked, the better.
“Is this it, sir?”
“I believe it is.” Jonathan waved away the advances of a woman with startlingly sharp features and hurried to the door of a building beside the house of ill repute. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the battered sign hanging over it. Martin’s Antiques and Relics was still there although his friend’s shop had definitely seen better days.
The last time he’d been there, the sign had looked brand new without a single scratch or dent on it, and the windows at the front had all been crystal clear to let people see the wares within. Now, the sign was badly faded and chipped, and the windows and doors had all been reinforced with thick metal bars and various runes and seals to prevent entry. The desire to use [Trace Memory] to understand how things could possibly have changed this much was great, but he fought it back. He couldn’t afford to use his magic recklessly until he was in a less precarious position.
Jonathan rapped loudly on the door. A few moments passed before he heard heavy footsteps. A flap in the door opened, and he found himself staring down the barrel of one of the firearms the dwarves had begun to develop. He had heard all sorts of rumours about these weapons and how dangerous they were – both to the user and the target – but this was the first time he’d actually seen one. It was not a pleasant view.
“Who do you think you are, rapping on my door at this time of the night? Come back around midnight!”
Jonathan’s hands tightened into fists. There was hardness in his friend’s voice that hadn’t been there the last time they’d spoken. “Um… is that you Martin? It’s me… Jonathan.” What could have happened to him?
An eye replaced the firearm. “Jonathan? Is that really you?”
Jonathan bent over to give Martin a better look at his face. “Yes. It’s me, old friend.”
The door swung open, and Jonathan was pulled into a hug. “It has been too long, my friend, far, far too long. What brings you to this rotten city when you could be reading a nice book in that old castle of yours?”
Jonathan sagged. “Actually…”
“I see.” Martin’s eyes narrowed, and he looked about furtively. “Come inside then. We can speak away from all these eyes and ears.”
Jonathan explained his circumstances over a mug of warm blood as Miles studied the shop warily. It was hard to blame him. Despite the changes to the exterior, the interior of the shop was largely unchanged: long, tall shelves crammed with books, artefacts, and relics, many of which were very obviously old, dangerous, or magical. Here and there, the tell tale shimmer of ghosts and spirits could be seen, testaments to his friend’s occasional – and mostly unsuccessful – forays into necromancy.
“Those bastards,” Martin growled when Jonathan had finished. Like most vampires, he had pale skin, but where Jonathan was tall and skinny, Martin was short and stocky, built more like a dwarf than a vampire. Indeed, his lack of height and impressive beard had led to many such accusations regarding his parentage over the years. A stout whack with a strong fist was usually enough to put an end to such insults, but the mere suggestion, combined with his humble heritage, was enough to ensure that Martin could never truly fit in with polite society. It was a shame. Martin was a good man, and Jonathan had met few vampires who could match his loyalty.
It wasn’t like Jonathan was one of society’s darlings either. His lack of wealth and scholarly leanings had left him on the fringes of polite society. Outcasts like he and Martin needed to stick together, and there were few things more rare or more important than an honest, loyal friend. Besides, Martin was good at what he did
. More than once, he’d managed to get Jonathan tomes that should have been impossible to obtain, and at reasonable prices too.
“I know how you feel,” Martin continued. “Those bastards got me too. It’s why I’m stuck here even though this whole area has gone to the dogs. One of my assistants cheated me and framed me for his crimes. I’ve only just paid off the debt, but it’ll be decades before I regather the money I need to leave this area.” He shook his head in disgust. “It has changed, my friend, and not for the better.”
“You never said anything in your letters,” Jonathan murmured. “I don’t know what help I could have given, but I would have tried.”
“I was ashamed,” Martin said. “I’d been cheated by someone I trusted. I felt like a fool.” His lips twitched. “I mean… I was a fool not to see it coming, but I didn’t want to burden you. Even before you lost your castle, you were not a wealthy man. There was nothing you could have done.”
“Even so, I would have tried to do something.” Jonathan peered into his mug. The blood was warm and fresh. “What happened here? I remember this being a much nicer area the last time I was here.”
Martin growled and bared his teeth. Like most vampires, his canines elongated when he was angry. “There was a fire. All of the… regular businessmen left. So much was damaged – too much for them to stay. I was lucky, or so I thought, and it wasn’t like I had anywhere to go. The crimes I had been framed for saw to that. When this area was rebuilt, new people moved in, but they weren’t the same sort of people. The only ones willing to come here were, well, you’ve seen them and probably heard them too.” He sighed wearily and ran one hand through his dark hair. It was wild and unkempt, another oddity for a vampire. “But don’t worry about the past. Neither of us can change it. Don’t worry about your future either. You have helped me many times before. I’m not going to throw you back onto the street.”
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